The Replacement
by Electra126
Summary: Wracked with guilt over her last confrontation with Faith, Buffy heads off to New York on a mission which leads her to a hidden world of actives, handlers, and all-too-perfect look-alikes. A Buffy/Dollhouse crossover.
1. Chapter 1

**The Replacement**

**By**

**Electra**

**Rating: **NC-17 (graphic content will be edited out to comply with the rules of this website)

**Pairing: **Buffy/Faith, Buffy/Other

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them or make money from them, never will.

**Summary:** Wracked with guilt over her last confrontation with Faith, Buffy heads off to New York on a mission which leads her to a hidden world of actives, handlers, and all-too-perfect look-alikes. A Buffy/Dollhouse crossover.

**Note:** This story has been dying to come out for weeks and was finally able to break through my writer's block. It will only be a short story (two or three chapters) with a planned sequel that will be equally as short. I'd love to hear your thoughts, as I've taken huge liberties with details on the Dollhouse stuff. :p

* * *

Buffy Summers didn't do regret. She learned from mistakes she made in the past and hoped to never repeat them. 'Remember what you did, learn from it, and never do it again.' That was the motto she'd developed over the years, and it had saved her from heartache and pain on more than one occasion.

But something had changed. Something had happened that had her pacing around her bedroom with her phone in her hand, leaving a worn mark in the plush carpeting. Something had shot her school of thought on regret to shit, leaving her aching and frustrated and feeling utterly helpless.

She flopped back onto her bed and covered her eyes with her forearm, sighing loudly.

It all started with a warlock. A warlock who had molded and corrupted a young slayer into believing that she was stronger, better, faster, more deserving than every other slayer out there.

It came to fruition with a Watcher who was desperate for a sympathetic and available slayer and was willing to offer her anything in exchange for her help. Buffy, of course had been too busy. Too busy robbing banks and running covert operations to fund their little slaying outfit.

And it ended with a swan dive through the window of a castle and Faith's hands around her neck, holding her under water to stop her venom-spewing tirade.

Faith wasn't bad. She wasn't evil and working for Lady Genevieve. She was there to take her down, but had had a change of heart halfway through the mission and thought that maybe, instead, Gigi could be rehabilitated. Could be given a deserved second chance.

But Buffy hadn't been let in on the plan – not that she would have paid attention anyhow, not when she was so busy herself – and had immediately assumed the worse. She went back to what she knew: Faith being evil. It didn't matter that they had worked their issues out in Sunnydale. It didn't matter that Faith had been working for the good guys in the States. What mattered was that Faith was there, with the bad guys, and Buffy had made what she thought was a logical assumption.

The things she had said, the way she had looked at Faith . . . yes, Buffy had regrets. How could she learn from it now when she obviously hadn't learned from them the first time around? Buffy's motto was shot to shit yet again.

Nothing ever followed her rules when it came to Faith. Faith laughed in the face of rules, and then she generally kicked their ass.

Buffy had become accustomed to finding warmth behind Faith's eyes since they'd patched things up. But the look on Faith's face that day as they battled in the pool, the icy cold eyes staring deep into her . . . Buffy couldn't forget it. She was haunted by it, unable to deal with the fact that she'd screwed up so royally when it came to Faith yet again.

It was their track record though, wasn't it? They were friends, something bad happened, and then they were non-friends once again.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Buffy couldn't let it sit this time, though. It ate away at her as Faith ignored her calls, deleted her text messages without responding, hung up on her without so much as a 'Sup, B?' Kicked her motto in again and again as Giles played middle man, telling Buffy to give Faith time, to let her be her own person, to choose her own path.

No, she couldn't let it sit. She needed Faith to hear her words, to understand the situation, to give her forgiveness even if she didn't deserve it.

Looking down at the phone in her hand, Buffy took a deep breath before dialing an all too familiar number now. The phone rang and rang but no answering machine picked up. Faith had disconnected it weeks back. She was sick and tired of hearing Buffy's messages day after day.

Just as Buffy was about to hang up when the phone rang for the twenty-sixth time, she heard a click and then some shuffling, followed by a frustrated, "Yeah?"

"It's Buffy," she blurted out as she quickly sat up on the bed. "Don't hang up; just give me a minute, please."

A brief silence ensued and Buffy could almost hear the wheels turning in Faith's head.

"No. No minute, not even a second. Not gonna listen to your sob story so you can feel better 'bout yourself. You hate me, I hate you, we're not friends and we're never gonna be. There, better now? That save you the hassle of having to apologize to such a heinous, evil bitch?"

Before Buffy could respond, the line went dead. Faith had hung up on her yet again.

Unwilling to accept the way the conversation had gone, Buffy quickly hit the redial button and listened as the line rang once, twice . . .

"Listen to me: quit callin," Faith yelled into the line.

"Faith, you need to hear me out. This isn't fair," Buffy quickly said.

"Not fair??" Faith asked, exasperated. "I'll give you not fucking fair, Buffy. Not fair is gettin' slammed on for tryin to do the right thing. Not fair is never being given a chance to explain but being expected to offer up that chance to you on a silver fucking platter."

"I know, and I'm sor…" Buffy began but was instantly interrupted.

" 'If you tell me you're sorry I will beat you to death.' Sound familiar?" Faith spat back at her.

The line went awkwardly silent except for the sound of Faith's harsh breaths. Buffy remained silent, cursing her broken motto, until she could no longer take it.

"I'm going to New York on a mission. I don't know when I'm gonna be back and I can't leave things the way they are. I needed to tell you . . ."

"Save it," Faith interrupted one last time. "Things are fine the way they are. You do your thing, I do mine, and we don't gotta see or deal with each other ever again. It's the happy ending you always wanted, Buffy."

"This isn't what I wanted," Buffy said quietly, hating the way that Faith sounded when she used her full name.

It didn't feel right. None of it felt right.

"It's what you get anyway," Faith answered back quietly, honestly. "Have a good life, B. This is me, out."

The line went dead once again, leaving Buffy sat on her bed with tears in her eyes, ashamed and hurt.

She shook her head, letting a single tear run down her cheek. Yes, she'd learn from this, and even grow from it, but she would always, always regret it.

A quiet knock at her door pulled Buffy from her thoughts. She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffled before saying, "Come in."

The door opened just enough for Xander to poke his head through.

"The mystics will have the portal up in ten minutes. You ready?" he asked with his usual friendly smile.

"Yeah, I'll be down in a sec," Buffy said, doing her best to keep her voice even.

Xander left without so much as another word, giving Buffy a few minutes to herself to gather up what she needed for the trip. She grabbed her suitcase and carry-on bag, along with a duffel bag full of pre-chosen weapons, and took one last look around her room before sighing and making her way downstairs.

It was going to be a long mission.

* * *

"Target one is on the move," Buffy said into the headset microphone as she ducked around the side of a building in the busy Manhattan afternoon. "She has the package in hand and is making her way uptown in a cab, license plate 63649JX."

"Excellent. All we need to do now is wait for her to reach the second target. The mystical tracker will paint both of them when they open the box and we'll be able to track them no matter where they go in the world," Willow said from the other end of the line. "If they're up to no good, we'll know."

"How long until she reaches target two?" Buffy asked.

"Traffic uptown is bad, ma'am, but I have target two in sight and I'll let you know when they rendezvous," one of the slayers chimed in over the line.

"Great, thanks Angie," Buffy said as she finally was able to relax and have a seat on a small bench. "Stand by, girls. Once Angie verifies the mark, we can be on our way."

It had been a tedious week of tracing and tracking their targets, two members of Wolfram and Hart who had taken a very keen interest in the new slayers. So long as Willow was tracking them, Buffy could be sure that they weren't getting up to any trouble.

Buffy sat quietly for several minutes, just watching the normal hustle and bustle of the streets. Hundreds of people passed by on both sides of the busy street, dressed in business suits and looking as dapper as ever. Buffy admired them; the way they went on with their day to day lives without knowing about the evil that lurked all around them. She wished she had that luxury, but no, apparently she was cut out for stealth operations and not secretarial duties.

Just as she was about to get up, someone caught her eye. She was thinner, her hair was longer and not quite the right color, but Buffy had no doubt about it; it was Faith.

"Willow, get me a secure line," Buffy said as she stood up, struggling to keep her vision locked on Faith among the sea of pedestrians. She began to walk down the busy sidewalk, keeping a safe distance as she followed Faith along the street.

Buffy heard the sound of a keyboard tapping before Willow spoke again.

"What's up, Buff?" Willow asked, concerned.

"Is it just you and me, Wills?"

"Just like in the good old days before there were a hundred other slayers talking away in our ears. Is there . . ."

"Why is Faith in New York?" Buffy asked, skipping over any formalities.

"What?"

"Faith. I'm following her right now. What does Giles have her doing in New York?"

"I have no idea, Buffy. Giles has been incommunicado ever since the big fallout. If she's there, it's obviously for some type of mission," Willow surmised.

"Do you think they got the heads up on the Wolfram and Hart agents?" Buffy asked as she ducked behind a portly middle-aged woman when Faith stopped to look in a store window. The woman spun around and glared at Buffy, who smiled sheepishly and said, "Sorry."

"I'm pretty sure that Giles isn't connected to that source. It's probably something else."

"Well she's definitely undercover. I didn't know that Faith wore anything but leather pants, let alone knew how to walk in heels. I'm actually pretty impressed. Giles got her to wear a dress. There should be an award of some kind."

"He's not the only one to get Faith to wear a dress, yunno," Willow said slyly. "Homecoming, senior year."

Buffy smiled almost sadly as the memory came to light. That was back when they still could have been friends. Still were friends. Or maybe Buffy was just deluding herself again. Faith was right; they never were and never would be friends.

So lost in her thoughts, Buffy forgot that she was trying to be covert until she felt someone accidentally bump into her, sending her small purse flying to the ground. She shook her head and bent down to pick it up but someone had beaten her to the punch. When she stood up straight she came face to face with an apologetic and dress-wearing Faith.

"I am _so_ sorry, I didn't see you standing there," Faith said apologetically.

Her voice was different though. Softer. Maybe she'd kicked that filthy smoking habit. The again, she was pretty raspy on the phone. And when did Faith learn to hide her Boston accent?

Also, the fact that Faith was speaking with her and not yelling or tossing her out into traffic was a bit suspicious, especially after their last conversation.

"It's okay, my fault for being little and easily knock-overable," Buffy said as she eyed Faith cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, umm . . ." Faith looked around and smiled, a way too cheery expression on her face and in her voice, ". . . window shopping, I guess. I was just on the way back to the office and . . . really, I'm so sorry for bumping into you. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Listen, I know you said I shouldn't apologize, so I won't, but do you think that we could . . . talk? Go for coffee, something? Faith, I'm . . ."

"I . . . I'm sorry to interrupt, but I think you have me mistaken with someone else," the girl interrupted, and suddenly Buffy started feeling even more uncomfortable as they stood there in the middle of the crowded sidewalk.

"Faith, you're obviously still mad, and I get that, I do," Buffy tried to reason as the girl just looked at her, perplexed. "Maybe your . . ." she continued but instantly stopped when she noticed something. ". . . tattoo. What happened to your tattoo?"

Buffy looked up into familiar brown eyes – well, maybe not all that familiar now that she really took notice; the brown was lighter and all wrong – and waited for the sarcastic comment she knew Faith would give her.

Instead, the girl just looked at her, partially confused and partially intimidated.

"I've never had a tattoo. And really, I'm sorry about the bump, but if you're okay I really need to get going. Take care, okay?"

And with a gentle hand quickly placed on her shoulder – a touch which sent no slayer tingles, for the record – the girl smiled and quickly stepped away and made her way quickly down the sidewalk.

Buffy stood there, her feet seemingly glued to the concrete, and watched the girl move along down the sidewalk, putting as much distance between them as she could. After a moment or two, Buffy realized that Willow was calling her name again and again on the headset.

"Yeah, I'm still here, Wills. And something fishy is definitely up. Stand by, I'll brief you as soon as I figure out what the hell is going on."

Without another word, Buffy started jogging down the sidewalk, dodging in and out of people as they walked along. She kept her eyes trained on the brunette a half a block ahead of her, hoping to god or whomever else was listening that she didn't look back or decide to get in a cab or something.

Buffy picked up her pace as she saw the girl escorted into a building by two men with sunglasses and small security earpieces in place. She needed to get into that building and find out what the hell was going on and who these people were that Faith was working with. And if they were going for covert, why had they changed her only in subtle ways and not gone all blonde wigs and short dresses a la Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?

However, as she approached the front door to the building, she was stopped by two more men in plainclothes security detail. They were built like pro-wrestlers and had no intention of letting Buffy in without an appointment.

She tried to bullshit her way in, claiming that her appointment card was in her other pants, and that – after taking a sneaky peek at their clipboard – her name was indeed Phuong Ha Ngo. But after five minutes and the threat of excessive force, she finally left of her own accord, determined to get in there one way or another.

Her way was the Wicca way.

"Willow," Buffy said as she made her way down the street and in the vague direction of her hotel. New York City was way too confusing for her tastes.

"Still here, Buff. What's up?"

"I don't know what's going on, but Faith or whoever what was pretending to be Faith was just escorted into a building with more security than I can take down in daylight. Can you get the 411 on what the place is?"

"I can try. Address?"

"1100 East 53rd Street. They're big on the discreet, but I saw a notice out front that said something along the lines of . . ."

"Heinz, Delauder & Associates, CMAs. It's an accountant firm, Buffy," Willow explained.

"Accountants? Why is Faith working for an accountant? Once when we were patrolling I told her to bring four stakes and she only brought three. She can barely count!"

"Buffy," Willow warned, trying to get her friend to calm down.

"Fine, fine. I'm being petty. I'm sorry." She took a deep, soothing breath and continued. "Do you think it's just a cover?"

"Maybe," Willow said as she feverishly typed away. "Maybe not. There's a paper trail; bank accounts, clientele, appropriate licensing and insurance. They even have a website."

"Help me out here, Wills. Tell me that Faith didn't retire from slaying for the existing life of accounting," Buffy said, her voice sounding tired now.

"Wait, this could be something. Heinz, Delauder & Associates only lease the space. The building is owned by a private company. Maybe there's something there. I'm gonna need more time though, Buff."

"That's fine, you're doing great, Willow. I'm gonna go back to the hotel and change out of my spy-Buffy gear. Call me as soon as you have some more info."

After a quick goodbye, Buffy disconnected the line and continued to make her way down the busy street. Her day couldn't possibly get any weirder.

* * *

"Get prepared for a high-octane dose of weird," Willow warned Buffy, who was busy trying to put on a clean shirt with one hand while she held her small cell phone to her ear with the other.

"I'm prepared," Buffy replied, her voice muffled as she pulled the shirt over her head.

"Okay. The private company that owns the building is called AFH. I've dug around for some kind of significance behind the letters, and what I've come up with is . . . Actives For Hire. There's no evidence to support that anywhere; they only have ever gone by AFH in name, but their actions support the name."

"Come again?" Buffy said. "I was temporarily under the effects of stupid as is prone to happen with me, but I'm pretty sure you said something about actives for hire?"

"That I did. Details are very vague. They exist on paper solely as the owners of the building. There are only a handful of employees listed, but there's no payroll logs, no insurance, no anything. It's fishy, and it gets even weirder."

"I highly doubt that's possible, Wills," Buffy said dryly.

"It's entirely possible and completely true. I couldn't find any relevant files pertaining to them on the web, and their own personal computer system is locked up tighter than Fort Knox, but I did find an encrypted file in the federal database. An Agent Paul Ballard believes that something fishy is goin on there too. He's written a report about actives being hired and programmed to do different jobs and tasks. It's only speculation on his part and his report is completely unsubstantiated, but he may be onto something."

"Okay, you win. It did get weirder."

"Yeah-huh. I dug around a little bit and while there are no bank accounts or clientele lists, some of the clientele of Heinz, Delauder & Associates have written checks to AFH, which were then re-routed into the accounting firm's business accounts."

"So you think that Heinz Ketchup & Mustard is just a cover operation?"

"It's just a guess, but I'd say yes. And I've . . . Buffy, I've spoken with Giles. While he was vague on the details, he says that Faith is on assignment in Taiwan. I wasn't sure if we should believe him or not, so I had the mystics confirm it."

"Great. So I chased a phantom Faith across two city blocks. This day just keeps getting better and better," Buffy sighed as she flopped back on the big hotel bed. "Do you think I'm going crazy, Wills?"

"While I'd normally hedge away from that question, I have to go with no, not this time. Agent Ballard had a photo attached to the file. I don't know who it is, but she looks exactly like Faith, Buffy."

"I know, but the eyes are all wrong," Buffy added. "What do we do, Willow? I can't just barge in there and demand questions. I don't even have a bank account that they could check over under false pretenses."

"Which is why I set up an appointment for you to go in for a consultation," Willow said happily.

"A consultation? With the accountants?" Buffy asked, confused.

"No, silly. A consultation with one of the few employees listed at AFH. It took a lot of digging and I had to pose as a high-profile diplomat to do it, but I got an appointment for tomorrow afternoon at 2:00. You'll be seeing Dr. Adelle DeWitt, and – this is very important, Buffy – when she asks who referred you, you have to tell her that it was Dr. Desmond Carrigan, your uncle. That will get you in the door. Staying there and finding out what's going on will be completely up to you."

"Right. Dr. Adelle Dewitt, 2:00 tomorrow. Referred by Dr. Desmond Carrigan. How am I doing so far?"

"Great. Just . . . use common sense, Buffy. Don't come out on the offensive. Be inquisitive but be congenial. Don't jump to any conclusions that will end up with your cover getting blown. We're prepared to fund the whole excursion, so get as involved as you can. If you can come into contact with one of these 'actives' be sure to take the opportunity. We need to find out what's going on and why they have a Faith-a-like," Willow said, engaged in full-on business mode.

"Got it, Wills. If you get any more intel before tomorrow, get in touch ASAP. In the meanwhile, if the slayers have validated that the targets have rendezvoused, send them back. There's no reason for them to stick around when they can be of better use there."

"Are you sure, Buff?" Willow asked, concerned. "What if things get hairy tomorrow? You might need some backup . . ."

"I've got it from here, Willow. Thank you for everything."

"Always happy to get down to the bottom of a good old-fashioned mystery. You know me."

"That I do. Later."

So the plans were set. All Buffy had to do was stay put, remember what Willow told her, come up with some sort of plan for once she was in AFH, and pray and hope that her day couldn't get any weirder.

At least she wasn't sitting on a Hellmouth.

* * *

Buffy strolled up to 1100 East 53rd Street, trying every bit to act as calm and casual as possible. Her large sunglasses did nothing to cover her face that she knew the guards would remember, but at least it meant that she didn't have to look them in the eyes and lie.

"Phuong Ha Ngo?" one of the guards asked as she approached, a knowing smirk on her face.

"Actually, no. It's Buffy Carrigan, and I have a 2:00 appointment."

The guard chuckled, not buying her second attempt to enter the building. However, as she looked down at his clipboard, his eyes widened a bit when he saw her name there.

"Umm, yes. Please follow me right inside," he said, his personality doing a complete shift.

He led Buffy inside and down a long corridor with doors on either side. Buffy looked through the small windows as they passed along, hearing random bits of conversation about numbers and accounts. Okay, maybe there really was an accounting firm in the building.

They approached a standard elevator unit and Buffy stopped in front of it, waiting for the guard to push the button. The guard continued walking along though and beckoned her after him. They went down another long corridor, this one completely devoid of any doors whatsoever. In fact, they were headed toward a complete dead end.

"Are you sure this is the way?" Buffy asked, tipping her sunglasses down so she could see better.

The guard didn't answer her. Instead he approached the dead end and stopped just in front of the wall. He waved his hand over a small sensor and a panel opened, letting some kind of electronic gadget slide out on a small shelf. He leaned forward and a small laser scanned his eyes while he pressed his thumb print to a small plate on the side.

A series of clicks and beeps were heard before a large panel in the wall slid up, revealing a hidden elevator.

The guard stood back and held his hand out, indicating that Buffy enter the elevator. She stepped in warily, noticing that there were only three buttons on the silver panel.

"Black button takes you where you need to go. All you need to do is push the black button."

"Right," Buffy said warily. "So I'm just gonna . . . push the black button then."

When the guard stepped away, Buffy had the urge to push the yellow button and the red button too, but for all she knew one would fill the elevator up with toxic gas or killer bees or something, and Buffy really hated bees.

Giving the black button a tentative tap, Buffy stood back as the doors closed and the elevator began to quickly climb.

Beyond the hum and whirling of the elevator, Buffy could hear another electronic hum. Short pulses reverberating throughout the elevator. Body scan, she quickly figured. For once she was relieved that she hadn't brought any weapons with her.

The elevator suddenly began to slow and Buffy took a deep breath, unsure that she was ready to deal with everything. It was too late though. The steel doors slid open to reveal a middle aged woman with a cold smile on her face.

"Good afternoon, Miss Carrigan. I'm Adelle DeWitt. Welcome to the Dollhouse."

TBC …


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: **Thanks for your feedback and emails, I greatly appreciate you taking the time to let me know what you think. Just one part left after this one. I hope you enjoy it, and I'd love to hear if you do. :)

* * *

**Part Two**

"Please, call me Buffy," Buffy said as she took the proffered hand before and shook it gently before stepping out of the eleva

"Please, call me Buffy," Buffy said as calmly as possible as she took the proffered hand before her and shook it gently. When Adelle stepped to the side, Buffy stepped out of the elevator. What the heck was The Dollhouse? "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"It's no trouble at all," Adelle responded as she began to walk through the open office plan, Buffy following closely behind her. "Your uncle has been an important client of ours for many years now. His business has always been our top priority, so you can understand that we're more than willing to accommodate his personal needs as well."

Buffy wondered exactly what kind of 'business' Dr. Desmond Carrigan was involved in if he was into the hiring of actives, whatever that meant, but she was sure she couldn't ask questions about it without blowing her cover. She'd make sure to have Willow check it out when she got back, though.

"And I do thank you for that," Buffy commented. "I know it may be a bit unorthodox, but after speaking with him I thought that maybe you could be of use to me as well."

They entered a spacious private office that overlooked most of the busy city below. The view was breathtaking, and it took Buffy a moment to peel her eyes away from it to realize that Adelle was waiting for her to have a seat in a plush armchair. She quickly sat down and smiled nervously.

"Please don't feel nervous or uncomfortable, Ms. Carrigan," Adelle began as she sat down in her leather office chair. "Many people have come to us before you with a wide array of needs. We've never been unable to accommodate our clients. I'm sure that we can help you, no matter the situation."

As comforting as Adelle was trying to be, Buffy still felt nervous. The most Willow was able to tell her was that AFH was in the business of leasing out people known as actives. Who these actives were and what they did was completely unknown at this point, and Buffy needed to find out as much as she could, all while pretending that she knew exactly what business they were in.

She really hoped that it wasn't some kind of escort service. All she needed was an arrest for solicitation on her already blemished personal record.

"Well," Buffy began, unsure, "why don't you tell me a bit about the Dollhouse, in your own words. Uncle Desi can be so coy, and I'd hate to make a fool out of myself with an off the wall request."

Adelle smiled, her lips tight as she sat back.

"I would hardly call any request off the wall. Sometimes there are situations, Ms. Carrigan, of which we're not able to handle alone. Have you ever felt oppressed? Alone? Unable to deal with a person or a situation? We all have, I can assure you. This is what we had in mind when we began this program. Through a rigorous screening process and a series of tests, both mental and physical, we've signed a series of actives, also known as dolls. They live here at our facility, training and keeping in peak physical and mental condition. Now, they've volunteered for this program, accepting a financial settlement in exchange for their services for a predetermined amount of time, after which they are free to retire or to continue with the program."

"And the services that they perform?" Buffy asked casually, though her stomach was twisting and turning on the inside. Something was wrong. Something was off about this place, despite the sterile atmosphere.

Adelle paused for a moment and held her gaze on Buffy, trying to read her.

"Vary from case to case," she answered vaguely. "Our actives excel at protection and vigilance, often serving as personal body guards and safe escorts. They're trained in eight different areas of martial arts, as well as modern weaponry and basic survivalism."

"Sounds . . . _excessive_," Buffy said, choosing her words carefully.

"On the contrary. With growing threats of terrorism and local as well as global hostility, our actives can never be prepared enough. Their sole focus is the completion of any mission or objective, and they _will_ lay down their lives in order to do so."

"Wow," Buffy said, shaking her head slightly. "I guess what I'd like to know though, is . . . how can you be sure that once they've completed your program, they won't go out and share these tales of heroism and secrecy?"

Adelle took that opportunity to stand up from her chair and walk around to the front of her desk, leaning back against it casually.

"That is actually a very simple process, which is not so simple to explain. Our actives are programmed with pertinent information for successful mission completion. Upon completion of their objectives, they return here for debriefing, by which our technicians completely deprogram them. All memories of the mission, all details previously ingrained in them, gone. They're left a blank slate; tabula rasa."

Buffy blinked several times, unable to comprehend completely.

"How . . . how is that even possible?"

"We have state of that art technology here, Ms. Carrigan. Our technicians are leaders in their field. I can assure you that our actives feel no pain during the process, nor do they ever question it. They did, after all, volunteer, with clear knowledge of what they were getting involved in. We wouldn't hold them here otherwise."

"Of course," Buffy said, nodding her head to indicate that she understood. She didn't understand though. Wiping someone's memory? Keeping them completely ignorant? Buffy didn't know the laws of nature and moral decency, but she was sure that some of them had to have been broken at this place.

Seeing the troubled look upon Buffy's face, Adelle tried a different approach.

"Protection and fighting isn't the only thing our actives are used for, Ms. Carrigan. Sometimes a lonely person just needs someone to talk to. Someone that can respond in a way that they need. Someone who can speak in a certain way, or look at them a certain way. On a rare occasion, we've had clients who merely needed an escort to a social function. As I mentioned before, nothing is unheard of here."

Buffy almost wanted to laugh. So, this top secret agency, on top of leasing out secret agents, also leased out dates? It was almost too much to handle. How was she expected to report all of this back to Willow when she could barely take it all in herself?

"Maybe you can tell me a bit about what you're looking for," Adelle continued, interrupting her thoughts.

"Oh, right," Buffy said, smiling.

Was she supposed to request an active to be her personal security guard? To deal with the newest rogue slayer and her gang? She could have used any number of excuses, but then something hit home. She could use this opportunity for good, she thought.

"Well," Buffy continued, "you see, I have this friend. Or actually, I _had _this friend. We were close, and then we weren't, and then we were again, and now, well . . ."

"Of course," Adelle interrupted. "You're looking for closure. Most people are unable to cope with untimely deaths, especially when there were things left unsaid, relationships left sour . . ."

"Oh, she didn't . . ." die, Buffy thought, but then she realized this was probably an excellent excuse. ". . . let me apologize to her," she finished.

Adelle smiled her cold smile again and leaned forward, putting a comforting hand on Buffy's knee.

"Guilt is a terrible thing, Ms. Carrigan. We don't know how to deal with it, especially when there are no viable ways to make amends. I believe we'll be able to help you. You can sit with one of our programming technicians. He'll go over personality, physical habits, identifying attributes with you. Our actives may not be perfect physical matches, but you'd be surprised by how much . . ."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," Buffy said, smiling. "I'm not picky. I'm sure you have exactly what I'm looking for."

And then some, she thought.

Adelle smiled happily and reached behind on her desk, grabbing a small remote control. She pointed it at the large plasma screen on the wall and in an instant, a live feed from one of the training rooms popped up.

The actives were using various cardio machines, all of them looking determined yet at peace. Buffy's eyes immediately went to the brunette beauty on the treadmill nearest the wall.

_Faith. _Okay, it wasn't Faith, but it would do.

Standing up, Buffy walked slowly closer to the large screen. She stopped just a few feet away, her eyes focused solely on the Faith look-alike. Adelle strolled up behind Buffy, a pensive look on her face.

"Echo. She's an amazing specimen, one of our very best."

"She's the one," Buffy said quietly, her eyes transfixed.

"Very well." Adelle walked over to her desk and picked up a small phone. "Topher? Have Echo ready for imprinting. I'm sending a client to you for detail analysis."

Putting the phone down, Adelle noticed that Buffy was still staring at the screen. With a small smile on her face, she sat down in her chair, leaving the screen on.

Surely Dr. Desmond Carrigan would be willing to pay the exorbitant amount she was going to charge to help his poor niece who was so obviously helplessly in love.

* * *

"Ms. Carrigan, this is Topher Brink. He'll be imprinting Echo with the qualities and characteristics that you give him. Take your time, be honest, and I can assure you that you'll be happy with the end product."

Adelle took her leave of Buffy then, leaving her in the presence of Topher and a handful of other technicians.

"Okay Buffy – cool name by the way -- let's see here. Looks like you're gonna be taking Echo out for a spin." He turned around and faced his computer, tapping away anxiously on the keyboard. "She'll be purely non-combatant and her aggression levels will be minimal. That's a start."

"Well actually," Buffy interrupted, causing Topher to spin back and face her, "Faith – my friend – she is . . ._ was_ an expert fighter. And even when she wasn't fighting, she was pretty aggressive. I mean . . . we weren't always friends. We had a few rough patches. But even when we were friends, she was always a bit … grr."

Topher smiled devilishly.

"A real firecracker then, huh? Okay, we can work with that." He spun back around and started typing again. "So we're looking at aggressive, but not alarmingly so, and able to stand up for herself. What else can you tell me about her personality?"

Buffy thought about it for a few moments. She wished she'd taken more time to get to know Faith. Sure she knew some of the basics, but Buffy was sure that there were parts of Faith under her external layers that she would have loved to have seen.

This was a perfect opportunity to see them, she thought.

"Well, she was a bit brazen. Sarcasm was often her friend. A shameless flirt. She wasn't book smart, _per se_, but she knew a lot more than she ever let on. She didn't like us to know that she cared, but she did deep down inside. I guess that under her tough girl exterior, she just really wanted to be our friend. _My_ friend."

She looked down sadly, unable to hide the sadness she felt at discussing Faith. Topher regarded her for a moment or two before turning back to his keyboard and typing in more of the info.

"Okay, Buffy, that's all great. I know it's hard, but you're doing a great job. Now we can get to other stuff. Mannerisms. Does she have an accent? Any physical habits? Anything that we can do to make her more like your friend?"

"Well," Buffy began, "she's from Boston. I guess that's where her accent comes from. I don't know much about her upbringing, but I know it was kinda rough. Her mom's dead, and I never heard her mention her dad. She's got attitude, and you can see that in the way she stands. Oh, she has a tattoo on her upper arm. A tribal dealy. I can draw it if you want, just for a basic idea. The girl can eat, I'll give you that much. And she smirks a lot. It's kind of her trademark," she said and smiled fondly, staring off into space as she imagined it.

"Gotta love a girl with a cute smirk," Topher said with a grin as he typed away again. "Okay, I think we've got a great basic profile going on here, Buffy. Our technicians and personality experts will fill in some of the details with basic information from standard profiles. Before I send the information to them, is there anything else you wanted to add? Anything to make this experience more real, more of what you need?"

Buffy met Topher's gaze then and paused for a moment, fighting her initial hesitation.

"She should call me B. And . . . somewhere under all of her layers, in even the tiniest of ways . . . she should love me."

* * *

After Buffy finished up with Topher, she was told that they would contact her the next day when everything was set. Echo, or whoever the girl was, would need to undergo her programming and be made ready for her mission.

Buffy still wasn't sure what Echo's mission would be. She'd asked Adelle what she should expect, but the older woman assured her that it would all be to her liking and that she should just wait for their time together to see how things went.

If there was anything that Buffy lacked, besides the obvious size advantage over any one of her past foes, it was patience and the ability to give up her control. She'd always been in control of her friendships. That is, except for when it came to Faith.

And now that she'd be dealing with 'Faith' again, she was expected to give up her much coveted control and just let things happen. To 'wait and see'.

Understandably, that night of waiting was one of the longest nights of her life.

However, it was just before noon the next day when Buffy received a call confirming their plans. Meeting "Faith" at AFH wasn't an option, or at least that was what she'd been told. Instead, they'd made arrangements for them to meet _by chance_ near a restaurant on 5th street.

Buffy looked down at her wristwatch nervously as she paced back and forth in front of the specified restaurant. She wasn't sure how this was all supposed to work, and come to think of it, she wasn't even sure that she wanted to go through with it anymore. But she had to find out what was going on at the Dollhouse, and she needed to find out why this girl looked so much like Faith.

Still, the ball of nerves in her stomach was slowly winning out, and just as Buffy turned to leave, she found herself standing face to face with what could only be described as an exact clone of Faith. It was astonishing. From her clothes to her grin to the way she was standing there looking as sure as ever . . . it was an exact Faith replica.

"Fancy meeting you here," she said in an almost perfect Faith-accent. It wasn't 100 perfect, but it was enough to stir up the butterflies in Buffy's stomach once again.

"Yeah, imagine that," Buffy said nervously. "Whole city of New York and we end up at the same spot at the same time."

"Talk about your weird coincidences. You look good, B. It's been too long."

Said so casually that Buffy almost forgot it wasn't Faith. It was _Echo._ Forgot that somewhere across the world, the real Faith had written her off and didn't want to hear from or see her ever again. Forgot that she was supposed to do research and not make it entirely personal.

She had to make it at least a little bit personal.

"Listen, _Faith_ . . ." she almost had a hard time saying her name, ". . . I know that we're not on great terms, or at least we weren't the last time we saw each other, but I need to tell you . . . I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I messed everything up. I should never have accused you like I did, and I . . ."

"B, it's okay. You don't have to . . ."

"No, I do," Buffy interrupted. "I really do. I need to get this off my chest or I'm going to explode into a million little Buffy pieces that you'll be forced to scoop up and take back to Dawnie and Willow, and I'm pretty sure that they don't like people bringing a potpourri of body parts on airplanes these days."

"I get it, Buffy, I do, and listen . . . it's cool, okay? I don't want you to be apologizin' forever cos honestly? There's more to life than regret. Yunno what I mean?"

"Yeah," Buffy agreed quietly, but she still hung her head down. She'd hoped that getting all of that off of her chest would make her feel better, but it only made her feel worse. Made her see how badly she'd screwed up. How much it really was her fault. How much Faith's forgiveness really meant to her.

"Yeah? You sure? Cos you're lookin' like someone just ran over your puppy."

"No. I mean yes, I'm sure. I guess this is all just a bit surreal for me," Buffy said, shaking her head.

"What's surreal?" Echo asked, confused.

"Oh, nothing." Buffy said and looked up again, smiling. She looked over at the restaurant, then back at Echo. "Since we're both here, what do you say you let me buy you some dinner? It's the least I can do."

"You know I'm never one to turn down free food, B. Come on."

And like it was the most natural thing in the world, Echo took her hand and led her inside the restaurant.

Sure, it wasn't a very Faith-like thing to do, but maybe somewhere under all of her layers, Faith would have wanted to do the same thing. She didn't strike Buffy as a hand-holding kind of girl, but the people that programmed Echo were experts, right? Maybe they knew something that she didn't.

True to Faith-form, Echo tucked away her entire meal of a triple-decker roast beef sandwich with a side of kettle chips and pickles and still had room to pack in the left over french fries that remained on Buffy's plate.

"That was some good grub, B," Echo said as she pulled a piece of fresh baked bread from the basket on the table and took another bite. "Really hit the spot. Thanks."

"You sure?" Buffy asked, amused. "I think there's a crumb that you missed somewhere on the table."

"Hey, yuk it up all ya like, but so long as the body's bangin I've got nothin to be worried about."

Echo finished up the last of the bread then and wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin that had been resting on her lap. A few rogue crumbs clung to the corner of her mouth, which made Buffy laugh unceremoniously.

"You've got a little bit of bread . . ." Buffy began, pointing up to Echo's mouth. Echo reached up and ran her fingertips over her full lips, but the crumbs remained. "Here, I'll get it."

And before she could stop herself, Buffy ran her thumb over Echo's lips and gently brushed the crumbs off.

When she realized what she was doing, Buffy immediately looked up at Echo, who was staring back at her with something in her eyes that Buffy didn't quite want to analyze at that point.

Still, her thumb rested gently on the corner of Echo's lips and her fingertips gently held her face. A few moments passed where they just stared into one another's eyes, and Buffy pulled her hand back only when she felt Echo lean into her touch a bit.

"Umm, sorry about that," Buffy said as she looked down at the table and fidgeted nervously. "I just have a thing about crumbs. One time Dawnie let me walk around the mall for hours with a piece of the soft pretzel we shared stuck to the side of my face."

"It's okay," Echo said softly, a look of confusion upon her face. "Did . . . shit, maybe I'm goin crazy here, but did you feel somethin' just then?"

Buffy looked up and met Echo's eyes – mirror images of Faith's – and she couldn't lie. She didn't understand it. She couldn't explain it. But she had indeed felt something.

"You're not crazy," she said quietly, her gaze locked on Echo's.

After a moment or two, Echo finally blinked a few times, the slightest hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"Whattaya say we get outta here? Go do something."

"Like what?" Buffy asked, curious.

"Anything. Everything. Don't matter to me. Let's just . . ."

"Okay," Buffy interrupted, a small smile on her face as well. She stood up and held her hand out to Echo. "You lead the way."

And with that simple gesture, she gave up the last of her control that she was clinging to. She'd let _Faith_ lead them, and she'd follow her. It was new, and it was scary, but it was time.

Giving up never felt so good.

_TBC._


	3. Chapter 3

** Note:** Thanks so much for your kind words and support throughout this short fic. There is definitely the possibility of a sequel if people can't tolerate this ending, which I don't think many will. :p I'd love to hear your thoughts. :)

**This chapter has been edited for content due to the rating guidelines of this site. If you are of age, please feel free to read the un-edited version at my website, which can be found through my profile page here.**

For Dylan, always.

**Suggested music for the hotel scene: Wicked Game by Stone Sour**

* * *

**Part Three**

Buffy and Echo walked through the busy city streets, making small talk but mostly just enjoying a comfortable silence. It didn't seem as though they were headed to any destination in particular, but Buffy didn't mind. She'd never had a relationship like this with Faith, and quite frankly, it felt good to just _be._

She found it amusing how intricate Echo's programming was. True to the details she'd given Topher, nearly every time they passed a street vendor, Echo would stop to get some kind of food. A piece of pizza, a hot dog, a cup of noodles, even something strange and foreign that Buffy couldn't pronounce and didn't want to.

Echo was a veritable bottomless pit, and it made her feel like Faith all the more.

"That smells horrible," Buffy complained with her face scrunched up as Echo downed yet another street snack.

"Tastes great," Echo said around a mouthful. "Try it, it'll change your world, got my word on that."

Echo held out the falafel pita that she was snacking on and waited for Buffy to take a bite. Buffy looked from the pita back up to Echo's face and raised her eyebrows.

"Falafel? No, I don't think so. Now, a waffle? Sure, bring on some of that. I love waffles. They're safe and contain absolutely no mystery meat. I'll pass on the falafel though."

Echo smirked a true Faith smirk and Buffy suddenly forgot what she was contesting.

"Eat the falafel, B."

"No."

"C'mon, just a little bite."

"I don't want it. It smells."

"Fine," Echo finally relented and they began walking again. "Probably don't wanna try it anyhow. You're lookin' a bit thick around the middle these days."

Buffy looked down at her extremely flat stomach before giving Echo an indignant look.

"I'll give you thick in the middle!"

She grabbed the falafel from Echo's hands and inspected it briefly before whimpering and taking a heaping bite out of it. She chewed quickly, hoping to finish it fast without having to suffer through it much, but then it hit her: the falafel was good.

Slowing down, Buffy finished chewing and handed the pita back to Echo, who watched her with a smirk the whole time.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it life-changing, but I won't laugh at you the next time you get a double order of falafel and baba ghannouj."

Echo smiled a smile that wasn't quite Faith's, but the rest of the overall package was enough to trick Buffy's mind into believing that she really was with Faith.

But the façade – no matter how great a façade it was – came crashing down when Echo asked her next question.

"Next time? So like, there's gonna be a next time that we hang out?"

Buffy's own smile faded then, leaving her looking sad and glum as they continued walking along.

"Actually, this is probably a one time kind of deal. Which, well . . . kind of sucks if I really think about it," she said honestly.

"I don't get it. I mean, we got past all the bad stuff, right?" Echo asked and stopped walking, waiting for Buffy to stop too. "Why can't we hang out if we're cool?"

Buffy stopped walking and turned back to face Echo, unsure of what to say next.

"I'm going home tomorrow. And well . . . I guess you are too, in a way. We're from two very different places. Our lives just aren't going to do that whole meshing thing," she answered with a shrug.

"Once enemies never friends, not even after death," Echo said under her breath.

It took Buffy a few moments of digging deep into her memory banks of her college literature class to realize that she'd heard that before.

"_Antigone_? Did you just quote me a line from _Antigone_?" She asked, astonished. "Damn, those programmers are _good_."

Echo ignored her though, pursuing her previous line of thought.

"Kinda smells like bullshit to me, B. Just cos your vacation's up doesn't mean we can't be friends," she said and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at Buffy intensely.

"Vacation? Doubtful. Haven't had one of those in years."

"So, top secret mission then. Whatever."

"Actually, yeah."

Echo smirked. "Secret mission? You gonna fill me in?"

"The word 'secret' really has no meaning to you, does it Faith?" When Echo shook her head, Buffy laughed. "I guess I probably could tell you. It's not like you'll remember any of it anyhow."

Echo raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Buffy's last statement.

"Why wouldn't I remember it?" she asked, confused. "I might drink like a fish from time to time but I'm pretty sure my memory's better."

"No reason," Buffy answered, quickly covering for her little slip up. "Okay. You wanna know why I'm in New York? I'll tell you." She paused for a moment. What harm could it really do, filling Echo in on her mission? Her memory would be wiped clean and all said and done would be forgotten anyhow. Steadying herself, Buffy continued. "I'm a slayer. _The_ slayer, actually. Besides you, I mean. I fight the forces of darkness and keep the world safe from all kindsa evil. I was on a secret mission to observe and intercept two agents of the most evil corporation in the world."

An awkward silence followed until Echo chimed in, "Starbucks?"

Buffy couldn't help but laugh.

"No, but close. Wolfram and Hart, evil global law firm. What better way to mask evil than behind the guise of a lawyer."

"Never heard of 'em."

"That's probably a good thing," Buffy said. She put her hands in her pockets and continued walking along the slowly darkening street.

Echo jogged a few steps to catch up with her.

"Okay, so weird secret mission shit aside, I get it. It's not a 'me' thing that's stoppin us hangin out again. Why don't we just take advantage of the time we have tonight before we make our dramatic exits?"

"I'd like that," Buffy said quietly, stealing a sideways glance at Echo.

"Yeah, me too."

* * *

It wasn't a date. It wasn't a date. It wasn't a date.

Buffy had to keep repeating that in her head over and over throughout the night, even though Echo was making it very difficult to believe it.

Echo had opened doors. Shared her snacks. Paid for the cab fare to the waterfront. Chased away the june bug that was trying to nest in Buffy's hair and only teased her about it for a minute or two before dropping the subject.

Okay, the last part wasn't very date-like, but it was pretty chivalrous the way she'd swatted at the bug and chased it halfway down the sidewalk as Buffy frantically busied herself trying to put a ponytail in her hair.

The evening had gone off without any hitches – june bug incident aside – and Buffy couldn't help but feel like her information gathering mission had very much turned into a date. The worst part was, she'd let it happen.

She knew that she should be more professional. Do her job and get out. But the fact that tomorrow she was going to head back to Scotland and to her life where Faith was no longer involved, well . . . she wanted to take advantage of these last few hours where she could pretend like they were friends.

It was the closure she was sure that Faith would never again offer her.

It was late out now, well after the midnight hour, and the girls had just left a small club about a mile or two from Buffy's hotel. She'd had a drink or two and was feeling good, but she still had her wits about her. Knew that she had to keep a clear head so that the night would end easily with no tears shed, both girls going off in their own directions. Forever.

They walked slowly to Buffy's hotel after she'd turned down Echo's offer of a cab ride. She just wanted to enjoy their last half hour together. It was bittersweet. Part of her wished that they had more time together, but the other part of her knew that Echo, as good as her programming was, wasn't the real deal.

She didn't know what she wanted with Faith, but their doom and gloom relationship was definitely not it.

As they finally approached the front entrance to the hotel, both girls became uncomfortably quiet. Echo shoved her hands deep in the pockets of her dark jeans, and Buffy wrapped her arms around herself, looking down.

"Tonight was pretty cool, B. Thanks for hangin' around," Echo said, finally breaking the silence.

"Well, thank you for letting me apologize. I felt really bad about the way things went down," Buffy replied, stealing a glance over at Echo.

"No big. We're only human, yunno? We live, we fuck up, we learn. Hopefully we move on."

It was awkward. It was more than awkward. They both stood there shuffling around, avoiding one another's gaze at all costs. Buffy's prayers for some type of distraction were answered when a street performer on a unicycle came charging at them, beer bottle in one hand and a bike horn in the other.

She didn't have the chance to move out of the way before she was forced to stumble backwards or get run over. Her back collided with the bricked front of the building before she slid down it in a heap. Both Echo and the doorman ran over to her side.

"Ma'am! Are you okay?" The doorman said as he took her hand and helped her stand upright, Echo doing the same on the other side of her.

"I come to New York and can't even get hit by a cab. It's a lone unicycler that was able to bring down the great and powerful Wizard of . . ." she drifted off, succumbing to an unconscious state.

Echo caught Buffy in her arms just as she began to collapse. While the doorman was intent on calling an ambulance, Echo argued that she was sure Buffy would be more comfortable in her hotel room and that the drink or two she'd had probably attributed to her passing out.

With Buffy's room key in her hand, Echo carried her into the hotel and to the elevator, then up eleven floors to her room. She'd noticed a slight tingle running throughout her body in response to their close proximity, but she figured it had something to do with the two bottles of Corona she'd had at the club.

When they finally reached Buffy's room, Echo unlocked the door and carried Buffy in, gingerly placing her down on the large double bed. She took off her shoes and was just about to put the blankets over her when she heard Buffy mumbling and stirring.

Buffy opened her eyes to see who she thought was Faith, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down at her with a worried expression on her face.

"You okay?" Echo asked, pushing a few strands of Buffy's hair out of her face.

"What happened?" Buffy asked groggily.

"You musta knocked your head on the wall. You're up in your room, B, I carried you here."

Buffy tilted her head to the side and looked up at Echo – at Faith – her eyes squinting slightly.

"It's scary how much you look like her," Buffy said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Like who? You seein' two of me, B? Shit, maybe we should call a doctor or something."

"No doctors!" Buffy shouted and sat up quickly, instantly regretting it as her head clunked with Echo's. "Ouuuuch!"

Echo took a second to rub her own sore forehead before she looked over to Buffy. Buffy was rubbing her head, but Echo grabbed her hand and pulled it away so she could inspect the damage.

"Well, you're gonna have a goose egg, that's for sure. Bump in the back of the head, bump in the front of the head; your melon's gonna look like a football soon."

Buffy tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it. Thinking about walking around with a head shaped like Stewie Griffin's was almost too much to handle. She stopped laughing, however, when she felt a pair of the softest lips ever brush gently over her forehead.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, losing herself in the moment. Losing herself in the lie. Between the drinks and the concussion and the _FaithFaithFaith_ on her mind, she wasn't sure what was wrong and what was right; she only knew what felt right.

Opening her eyes, she looked up to meet soft brown eyes looking back at her. Faith's eyes weren't that soft. Faith had never kissed her forehead.

But Faith had never let down her walls long enough to get that close. To give their friendship a chance. To give _them _a chance.

Throwing caution to the wind, Buffy leaned in the short distance and brushed her lips slowly over the lips she'd felt on her forehead just moments before. They were soft and warm and kissing her back, tentatively at first, but then more confidently as a few moments passed.

And then as if she'd been scorched, Echo jumped back, her eyes wide as she looked at a surprised Buffy.

"Shit! I'm so sorry, B. Shit. I didn't mean . . . here you are with a concussion and I'm takin advantage . . ."

"Shh," Buffy interrupted, putting her finger on Echo's lips. "This is me." She took Echo's hand and put it over her heart. "This is you," she finished, putting her own hand over Echo's heart.

Echo looked down at her hand over Buffy's heart, then up to green eyes staring into her so deeply, with such honesty.

And suddenly lips crashed back together as all sense of wrong and right or good and bad flew out the window. It wasn't about what they thought; it was about what they were both undeniably feeling.

Buffy slid her hands down Echo's sides until they reached the bottom of her shirt. She broke away from her lips just long enough to pull Echo's shirt up over her head, then immediately sought out her lips again as they fell back onto the bed.

Echo lifted herself up on her arms and knees, kissing Buffy with everything she had while Buffy fumbled with the button of her jeans. As soon as she felt the pop of a button and heard her zipper being pulled down, she immediately began to wiggle out of her pants. While she did that, Buffy busied herself removing her own shirt and pants, which thankfully were easy to get off in her laying position.

Looking down at Buffy, clad in only her bra and silky panties now, Echo hesitated for a moment. She wanted to be there. She wanted to love Buffy, to giver her what she wanted. What they both wanted. There was something niggling deep within her though, a feeling that something wasn't right. That something was off. The way that Buffy had looked at her before, was looking at her now; she couldn't put her finger on it, but something was amiss.

However, as she found Buffy's gaze, all of her doubts melted away. Buffy was looking at her with such longing and emotion, she couldn't hold back anymore.

Leaning down, Echo captured Buffy's lips in a heated kiss. There was no fight for dominance. Buffy clung to Echo's lithe body, feeling the burn of her skin against her own. When Echo began to kiss down Buffy's neck, it was Faith's name whispered from Buffy's lips.

The lines were crossed – leapt over headfirst, in actuality – and there was no going back now.

Echo continued to kiss and nibble on Buffy's neck until she began to slowly slide down her body, eager to please Buffy in every way that she could.

"Wait," Buffy breathed out as Echo was kissing over her navel.

Before Echo could ask what was wrong, Buffy was pulling her back up so that they were face to face once again.

"Stay with me," Buffy whispered before capturing Echo's lips in another kiss.

Echo was happy to oblige, and even more happy when she felt a slender hand slip between their bodies. Buffy's fingertips slid across her stomach, stopping only when they reached the top of her panties.

"Am I out of line?" Buffy mumbled against Echo's lips, resting her head back so that she could look up into Echo's eyes.

A small sigh left Buffy's lips, followed by a moan as Echo copied her move, sliding her fingers down her side and into her already damp panties. Her fingers slipped... **EDITED FOR CONTENT** Echo couldn't help but grin sexily as Buffy arched against her.

"If you are, then I definitely am," Echo replied easily. She leaned down to kiss Buffy again and couldn't help but smile as she felt Buffy's fingers tentatively copy her moves, trying to find their own rhythm.

Encouraged by Echo's moans and sighs, Buffy became more confident. Easing her fingers lower, she let them **EDITED FOR CONTENT**. Echo moaned into Buffy's mouth, which only served to encourage Buffy further.

They clung to one another, bodies slick with sweat as they moved and sighed together.

Buffy remembered heaven. It was bright, and beautiful, and it made her feel like she was humming on the inside and tingling on the out. Being with Faith, no Echo . . . fuck it, Buffy didn't care. It was as close to Faith as she was ever going to get, and it felt like heaven all over again.

Her body was humming, more alive then she'd ever quite remembered feeling at any time in the recent past. Slowly but surely she started to lose control. Her muscles tightening, her breathing harsh and ragged, her free arm clinging tighter and tighter to Echo, who did her best to meet Buffy thrust for thrust, moan for moan.

Feeling her orgasm wash over her, Buffy slammed her eyes shut and concentrated on **EDITED FOR CONTENT...** on the soft words being whispered into her ears, "Come for me, B. Come all over my fingers."

And then all was lost in a symphony of pleasure. Waves crashed, angels sang, the earth moved . . . but Buffy couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. Couldn't bring herself to come face to face with Echo, who she was suddenly remembering was very much _not_ Faith.

"Shhhhh, it's okay," she heard whispered to her a short while later, and it was only then that she realized that there were tears streaming out the corners of her clenched eyes.

"I'm sorry," Buffy said, trying to hide her face. Trying to hide from what she'd done, what she'd allowed to happen. What she'd invited to happen.

"No sorrys, Buffy. Never. We're okay. We're okay, right?" Echo asked after she'd taken a moment to kiss away Buffy's tears.

"Yeah," Buffy answered, but she knew it was a lie. They weren't fine. She wasn't fine. Nothing was okay, but it couldn't be changed. Things had happened, and now she had to deal with them.

Seemingly appeased with Buffy's answer, Echo rested her head on Buffy's chest and kissed her skin softly, smiling to herself.

She hadn't noticed that Buffy still hadn't opened her eyes.

* * *

Buffy awoke to the sound of the door lock beeping. Opening one eye, then the other, she rolled over to find that she was alone in the bed. She didn't have time to think about if that made her happy or sad as a housekeeper began to enter the room at that moment.

"Oh, sorry," the woman apologized, surprised to see Buffy laying in the bed, covered only with sheets.

"It's okay. I just need like twenty minutes," Buffy said sleepily as she rubbed the bump on her forehead.

"Take your time," the woman said with a smile, turning around and leaving Buffy alone in the dark room, the thick curtains still closed to keep out daylight.

Sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Buffy winced as she found herself deliciously sore in all of the right places. She wasn't sure how many times they'd had sex that night. After the blubbering and a short nap, she'd awoken to find Echo kissing over her chest and stomach, which had led to a whole world of wow and new.

And like Adelle had promised, Echo had been re-called earlier that morning. She hadn't heard her leave, so she wasn't sure how long she'd been alone. Still, a sense of relief washed over her as she realized that waking up with Echo at her side would have created a whole new definition for the word 'awkward.'

Making her way over to the bathroom, Buffy slipped into the shower to rid herself of her indiscretions. Plus, the sex smell had to go. Xander had a nose like a bloodhound. One whiff of her and he'd be in happyland for god knows how long.

She quickly shampooed her hair, paying less attention to detail than she normally would. After all, she still needed to call Willow and get the portal up before the cleaning lady came back.

Turning off the water, she dried off and put on a clean pair of clothes but left her hair to air dry. Fighting with herself for a moment or two, she tossed her clothing from the night before into the garbage bin in the bathroom. The memory of the night before would never leave her, but she didn't want to take back anything that would act as a further reminder of her stupid decisions.

Happy with the state of the room and her packed bags, Buffy finally picked up her cell phone from the dresser and hit speed-dial number one. The line began to ring after a few moments, then was quickly answered by an anxious Willow.

"Buffy? Thank god you called, I was beginning to worry. You never checked in last night and I thought that your Faith-bot went rogue and had you tied up somewhere, which was a surprisingly less disturbing image than I'd imagined."

"No, I'm fine, Wills. There was no tying up involved," Buffy answered evenly.

"So did you get lots of info? How did the night go?" Willow asked.

Buffy sighed and sat down on the still disheveled bed.

"I'd really rather not talk about it right now if that's okay," she answered quietly.

"Hey, it's okay," Willow assured her. "It was stupid of us to think that you and even Robo-Faith would get along. It's just not meant to be, Buff," Willow said sadly.

A wry grin appeared on Buffy's face, but she couldn't let Willow know just how wrong she was.

"Guess not."

"I think Jane Austen said it best when she said, 'Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed . . .'" Willow trailed off as she caught herself. Despite how much Buffy had grown as a person, Willow couldn't tell Buffy what was so obvious to see to everyone except her.

Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.

"Disappointed what?" Buffy asked, confused.

"Disappointment. Just disappointment. Come on home, Buffy. Xander and I are here waiting for you," Willow said sadly.

"Timeframe?"

"The portal is up in seven minutes. We'll see you soon."

"Thanks Wills."

And with that, Buffy clicked her phone shut and flopped back on the bed.

* * *

Topher guided Echo through the lab and to the debriefing room. She wasn't programmed to ask where she was going or what was happening. It was just another part of the mission. She knew Topher was there to take care of her, and that was what mattered.

"I feel something, Toph. It's weird," she said as he pointed her to one of the reclined chairs. She sat down in it easily, resting back as she was supposed to do.

"What do you mean 'weird'? Are you feeling sick?" he asked, only half paying attention.

"No, I feel good. Strong. There's something deep inside of me, calling out to me. It's new, and it's different, and . . . it's a part of me, Toph. I need to find out what it is. What I am."

Topher slowly turned from his computer towards Echo, a wary look on his face.

"It's probably just indigestion," he covered quickly as he guided the headpiece over her forehead. "In two minutes you'll feel better."

"But I don't want to feel better," Echo said, looking into his eyes. "I want to understand this feeling. What's inside of me."

"I'm sorry," Topher said quietly.

"For what?" Echo asked, smiling at him.

Echo suddenly went rigid in the seat, her eyes slamming shut as an electric current passed through her. Topher watched on in his own personal agony. Wiping Echo's memory was part of his job, but there was something different this time. Something haunting him.

She was becoming self-aware.

After a few moments the current stopped and Echo's eyes opened, quickly scanning the room.

"Hello, Echo," Topher said, plastering on a fake smile.

"Did I fall asleep?" she asked innocently.

Topher paused before saying, "For a little while."

Another technician came in and took Echo from the chair, leading her from one lab into another for further de-briefing. Topher watched her leave before turning back to his computer, a troubled look on his face.

Picking up the phone, he dialed an all-too familiar extension and waited for an answer.

"Dewitt," came the answer from the other line.

"Echo is back and has successfully downloaded," Topher said.

"Excellent. Send the feed up to my office, and get Echo completely debriefed. She's due for another mission later tonight and we need her in tip-top shape."

"I don't think that's a great idea," he said warily.

"Why, pray tell?" Adelle asked, amused.

"She's changing, Dr. Dewitt. Something's happened. She's feeling something, something we haven't programmed her for. Adelle . . . I think she's questioning who she is."

The line was quiet for several long moments before Adelle finally responded.

"Well that's just not acceptable. Get Sierra ready for tonight, she'll be taking Echo's place. I want a full analysis done on Echo. Run the full spectrum, Topher. She is too big of an investment and commodity to lose to a stray memory or feeling," Adelle said, not a hint of empathy or concern in her voice.

"Adelle, I don't think you realize what this means. She . . ."

"I realize what it means for us. We could lose important clients, which could put me in a very awkward position. Do you understand, Topher?"

"Yes ma'am," he answered quietly.

"Fantastic. Now get to work. You have a busy day ahead of you."

She hung up the line without anything further and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples.

No, this was not good at all.

She grabbed the silver remote control from her desk and pointed it up at the large TV monitor on the wall. With the click of a button, a series of images began to show on the screen.

Adelle smiled as she heard Buffy uttering awkward apologies, true to form. Her clients always had something to apologize for. Really, it was rather boring. Fast-forwarding along and scanning only short clips, she had to hit rewind when an interesting bit of conversation caught her attention.

"_I'm a slayer. The slayer, actually. I fight the forces of darkness and keep the world safe from all kindsa evil. I was on a secret mission to observe and intercept two agents of the most evil corporation in the world_," Buffy said, looking directly into Echo's eyes. Directly into the camera.

There was no doubt about the look in her eyes, Buffy was telling the truth.

Pausing the feed, Adelle sat forward and placed the remote control on her desk, a cold smile on her face.

"Oh, Mr. Travers, your mouth spits lies like venom. You assured me that you got me the DNA of _the_ slayer, not some second-rate runner up. I do believe you've breached our contract"

She sat back in her chair and stared at the screen, right into the green eyes of Buffy.

"Miss Carrigan, or whoever you are . . . I will find you again. You have my word."

* * *

Looking at the time on her cell phone, Buffy realized she'd only been laying there for two minutes. She still had five agonizing minutes to wait for the portal.

She flicked open her cell phone and began to browse around to pass the time when she stumbled upon an entry in her address book.

Faith.

She hit the send button before she could stop herself.

Quickly lifting the phone to her ear, Buffy held her breath as the line rang again and again.

"I thought we already settled this matter," she heard an angry voice from the other end of the line.

"What, no hello?" Buffy asked, but quickly found that Faith wasn't in the mood for joking.

"I gotta get a new cell phone now too? Changing my home number wasn't enough, huh."

"You changed your number at home?" Buffy asked, sitting up.

"Changed homes too. Don't need any unexpected visitors poppin in all uninvited."

"Faith . . . I'm sorry," Buffy blurted out. She quickly continued, "and I know you don't want to hear it, and you don't care, but . . . I've realized some things. And you're gonna pack up and move on, but I can't. I'm stuck here, Faith."

"You got yourself stuck, B, and you can dig yourself out this time. I'm sick to fucking death of always being looked down on by you and your besties. I don't need to prove myself to you or anybody else, and it's 'bout fucking time I stopped pandering to Buffy-fucking-Summers."

"No pandering. No proving. I saw you, Faith. I finally saw you," Buffy said quietly.

"Yeah, in three feet of water with your fist connecting with my head."

"No. Not then. I was angry, and I drew conclusions, and I can't say the same thing wouldn't happen if we went back in time and it happened again."

"Cos you never fucking change, Buffy. You're always the princess, and I'm sick of being the peon. I'm not some second rate slayer. I'm not a second rate anything."

"I know you're not. And you don't have a monopoly on fuck-ups."

"Fuck you," Faith answered quickly, defensively.

"Faith . . . I want to try again. If we could see beyond this bullshit, I think we could be friends. Great friends. If we could just . . ."

"It's too late, B," Faith said angrily. "Too fucking late. I'm all about second chances. Hell, third chances are great. Anything more than that and it's just not meant to be. We're broken, Buffy. There's no use in trying to fix it."

Faith sounded defeated. Life she'd finally accepted facts and given up.

Buffy wasn't about to give up again though. Not when she saw how it could have been.

"I'm not giving up. We can fix it, Faith. We can make it . . ."

"I'm so tired, B." Faith said, and Buffy could hear it in her voice. Could feel it in her soul. "I'm just so tired. If you care at all, you'll just let it go. Just let this be the end."

Buffy played the words over and over again in her mind, but she couldn't come to grips with them.

She spoke with a shaky breath, a few tears sneaking past her censors.

"I can't."

Faith sighed deeply, "You have to. We're done, B. There's no making it better, no making it work. It is what it is."

Buffy was pretty sure she heard a sniffle on the other end of the line and it just about broke her heart in two.

"Faith . . ." she whispered.

"Goodbye, Buffy," Faith whispered back just as quietly.

And the line went dead. She sat up and quickly hit send again, but the call went immediately to an automated voicemail.

She knew that it was the last time she'd hear from Faith.

The tears finally fell fast and hard as Buffy laid back on the bed. She rolled on her side and grabbed the pillow, curling up around it. The scent of Echo drifted up and filled her senses, flooding her memory with images of the night before.

She wanted to take it back; to take it all back and go back to a place where she could live in denial and go on with her life, but it was too late now.

Faith was on her mind and in her heart, and there was nothing she could do to change that. She only hoped that one day Faith would allow her the chance to set things right.

If that day ever came, Buffy would be ready. There would be no more replacements, only the real deal.

**The End.**

_…to be sequel-ed?_

"There is always some madness in love, but there is also some reason in madness." -- Nietzsche


End file.
